The Final Exam
by nattherat
Summary: Constance Hardbroom has always been a figure shrouded in mystery. When Enid decides some extra-curriculum magic is in order for the girls Fourth Year exams, they stir up far more than they bargained for. Please R&R!


Chapter 1 – Prologue: Adremelech

The walls of the Great Hall seemed to be bubbling, and she felt herself wretch when she saw something thick and black oozing through and seeping down them. The malevolent force in the air crackled around her, pressing down on her, trapping her. With each breath she took, she could taste the energy, smell it, coppery and thick. It burned. Constance clutched her arms. The magic felt like thousands of pinpricks on her bare skin, searing pain all over.

Inhuman faces seemed to be appearing and disappearing from her view, unfocussed, hinting gruesome images before disappearing back into the dark. At the head of the hall, the Malefic watched her with greedy eyes.

Raw energy dripped from it's jaw in a wrenching mockery of blood. It scorched the floor where it landed, and the smell of burning wood added to the repulsive stench of it's magic.

Her stomach turned over, and she felt the need to wretch, to expunge the vile substance from her senses. She wanted to run, escape, and never lay sight on the creature again, but she was rooted to the spot. Some force within her, a deeply ingrained part of her magic held a connection with the malefic, and it responded now, calling out to the monster against her will.

"Amilda, get the girls out of here now!" Headmistress Bertha Meridian's cry rang out over the roaring of the Malefic Adremelech. Amilda met her eyes from across the room where she stood sheltering young Martha with her cloak, and she nodded slowly, her hands trembling as she ushered all the children from the hall.

Bertha kept an eye on her friend, watching to make sure all the students had been led from the hall to safety before she turned her attention to Constance. The girl was frozen to the spot, but Bertha could see her hands timidly positioned to start spell casting.

"Constance!" Miss Meridian's words snapped her out of her trance, she looked back to find her tutor pulling her into her arms, frantically chanting a warding spell. Constance squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the images the malevolent magic was projecting around the hall, and willed Miss Meridian's spell to work with all her might. The dark tendrils whipped their way around the ring of protection she'd created, and Constance had a terrible feeling that it was toying with them.

Adremelech roared, sending searing black flame from it's throat. Bertha clutched the girl closer, bracing them against the onslaught of Adremelech's magic.

The warding didn't hold, as Constance knew it wouldn't. Her headmistress cried out in pain as the magic began to seep through the barrier and lash at them. Bertha pushed the girl back, and shielded her body with her own. She could already feel the dark tendrils tugging away her spell, there wasn't much time left. By herself, she knew she would not be able to protect Constance and the school, she didn't have the power, and the warding spell was purely prolonging the inevitable. The malefic would get through in it's own time, and all would be lost. With a physical snap, she felt half of the anchors in her spell give way, and the dark power was upon her.

The sound wrenched from her tutor's throat in pain caused Constance's blood to run cold. Somewhere between terror, violation and and injury, with no clear boundary of where one ended and another begun. Tears had reached Headmistress Meridian's eyes and Constance understood in that moment she would not survive this no matter what her body was left as by the end.

With the last of her energy, Bertha gathered up the power for a summoning spell. The Witches Guild was too far for her to reach on her own, but nearby she knew there was a witch powerful enough to at least hold the monster off. Her right hand manipulated the spell with difficulty, the malevolent magic had now begun it's final stage, and she could feel her flesh surrender to it's acidic nature.

"Hecketty...!" Miss Meridian choked on her words, convulsing in pain as the woman materialised before her. Her skin burned, and her breath came out ragged. She felt her strength fail, and her legs give way, the impact of her fall taking away the last of her energy to fight for her own life. Mistress Hecketty Broomhead materialised, her haughty indignant expression soon changing to one of thin-lipped concentration when she laid eyes on the scene before her. The head of the school was spluttering on her own blood at her feet and in the middle of the room, a mere school girl was encased in malevolent magic.

Constance's vision blurred, and suddenly all that was going on around her didn't appear quite real. The vague shapes that made up her tutors and classmates were swirling in and out of focus, moving so fast, she couldn't tell who was who. With each twinge of pain the shapes became fuzzier, until she felt like she was suspended in a sort of limbo. Suddenly, her body was not her own, and Constance felt fear rise within her at the realisation she was not in control of her own movement.

Hecketty's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the young girl. Her hair had fallen out of the two neat plaits it had previously been in, and it now whipped wildly about, obscuring the girl's face. Between strands, Hecketty felt herself take a sharp breath as she was met with a face quite different from the one Constance had worn just a few moments ago. Her eyes were glazed over, and something like blood, and yet too dark to be, streamed from them. Her expression the picture of malevolence. Hecketty instinctively brought to mind each and every warding spell she had ever heard of, readying her magic immediately. The limp hand suddenly clutching at her skirt broke her concentration, and she looked down to find the weak, unfocussed eyes of Bertha meeting hers pleadingly.

"...N-no...don't," Hecketty grasped the other woman's hand in her own, once again searching her mind for healing spells she already knew would be ineffective. "she's...she's benign,' Bertha's face contorted in pain, as the cancerous malevolent magic began to finish it's purpose. "...with d-direction," blood began to trickle from the tutor's lips. "...she can...live..." Bertha met Hecketty's eyes, and Hecketty knew no more words would come from her. She allowed herself a moment in respect for the witch, before turning to Constance.

Adremelech let out a screech of rage; and the dark tendrils shot towards Constance. It occurred to her they weren't so hard to control, as she felt herself raise her hand and halt their advance easily. Her hands felt warm. Dark magic swirled around her wrists languidly, lapping around her outstretched fingers as if daring her to begin casting. It resembled smoke, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if it was purposefully obscuring her vision. She heard Mistress Broomhead shout for her, and felt her magic reaching out for her. She didn't care for that much, it wasn't warm or familiar like this other magic. She knew this dark magic, it felt like family. Family she cared for at any rate. Yet, something had just happened that shouldn't have, and she couldn't clear her mind or vision enough to remember it. Again she felt the witch call for her again, she felt another string of magic amidst the chaos. This was Headmistress Meridian's magic. Carried back to something, on the back of malevolent energy. Constance felt her stomach twist again, and desperately she tried to call to mind the events telling her this familiar old friend should not be trusted.

"Constance!"

This time Mistress Broomhead's voice got through, and images of her tutor's lifeless body flashed before the girl's eyes. Suddenly the dark magic wasn't so warm, so familiar. It was putrid once again, and she felt nought but self-disgust that this was the colour of her magic.

Her wrist was grabbed forcefully, and a hand moved her chin to face her upwards. She could see the witch was talking, commanding her to do something, but comprehension was beyond her. There was so much power in the room, and all at once it was upon her. Adremelech had resolved to end it now it seemed. The sensation was overwhelming, she could feel everything at once. She knew Miss Decanate was counting the girls hurriedly in the grounds, she knew Elizabeth was still in the dorms hiding beneath her bed, she knew Morgana was scratching away at her basket trying to get to her mistress, and she knew most of all that all these things must remain.

She felt for the dark magic again, and channelled power she never realised she had into repelling it, dissolving it. Beside her Mistress Broomhead augmented her power, adding her own magic to Constance's spells, focusing them and directing them. The power wove its way around her, obeying her will easily, too easily. Again a part of her wondered if it was the energy playing with her, rather than the other way round. She could feel the mass of dark magic across the room swelling and bulging as she projected blasts towards it; the whole hall seemed to be teaming with relentless malevolent tendrils, making her feel sick and dizzy. Her vision clouded for another time and she felt her consciousness slipping away. Desperately she tried to claw herself back in control, but the power was too great, overtaking her reason and working of its own accord. She vaguely remembered the sensation of a huge burst of magic thundering past her before her mind faded completely.

Adremelech emitted a final scream, crashing to the floor of the hall just as it's cry faded. Constance's eyes flickered a moment, as she briefly regained awareness. All sounds were muffled except that of her laboured breathing, and the great hall was swimming in and out of focus. Exhaustion, confusion and agony all hit her at once, and she felt both her magic and her body fail. As she lost consciousness, Constance hoped there would be someone to catch her as she fell.

Hecketty slowed the girl's descent with a simple spell, lowering her to the floor. She approached cautiously, wary of the power Constance was wielding. The girl lay there writhing, distressed noises emanating from her throat, and Hecketty could see the malevolent magic starting to exercise it's cancerous nature on her body. Footfalls sounded from behind her, and Amilda appeared, kneeling beside Constance, futilely trying to help her without touching any of the dark tendrils that lashed at anything near.

The girl's body gave a violent shudder, and she brought up blood. With a sharp intake of breath, Hecketty readied her magic, gathering up every drop of energy she could. The girl's affinity for malevolent power had rendered her much less vulnerable to its effects on living creatures, and it afforded her time that Miss Meridian hadn't had. Removing malevolent magic was a delicate operation, it's description as an aggressive and cancerous power being much more accurate than Hecketty would've liked. It couldn't simply be destroyed or erased either. She likened it to pulling threads, too much pressure and they snap, only to get further entangled in the mess.

She kept her distance as she slowly forced the excess power from Constance's body. She needed something to bind it with, to prevent it from repossessing the girl. Confining it into an artefact wasn't ideal, but it was her only option. Hecketty unpinned the black brooch from her collar with one hand, keeping the malevolent magic at bay with the other. The tendrils writhed around, searing Constance's flesh. Working quickly, she drew the malevolent magic within the brooch. When she was finished, the girl finally lay still, and Amilda checked her for injuries.

"Miss Decanate, wasn't it?" Mistress Broomhead considered the young woman wiping the blood from Constance's eyes.

"This girl, she is now under my charge, do you understand?" Amilda nodded slowly, the magnitude of the recent events beginning to sink in. "When she has completed her education here, you will send her to my establishment, where I will take over."

"Bertha was correct, she is benign," Broomhead turned to survey the damage to the great hall. The explanations to the Witches Guild would take months, not to mention all the paperwork involved, and the issue of having it all repaired. "Without guidance however, that could easily become malevolence."

Amilda looked down at Constance. She felt she should be angry, this girl was the cause of all this, and the cause of...she gave a start as a sudden thought struck her.

"Bertha!" Miss Decanate rushed over to her colleague, realising with horror she hadn't seen her move since Mistress Broomhead had left her.

Headmistress Meridian lay lifeless, sprawled on the wooden floor, her robes stained with her blood. Amilda felt a strangled cry emerge from her throat, and her eyes stung with tears as she threw herself down next to the headmistress. She took her hand in her own, curling her fingers over hers, wishing Bertha would squeeze in response.

"You will take that abomination away right now!" Amilda spat, indicating Constance's unconscious body.

"Abomination?" Hecketty raised an eyebrow.

"She's responsible for all this!"  
"She brought an end to all this,"

Amilda raised herself slowly, the rage in her fuelling her to argue with the woman. Her fists shook at her side, and her voice seethed as she spoke.

"Whether inadvertently or not Mistress Broomhead, that girl is responsible for Bertha's death. Her continued presence here puts all the girls in danger, and I cannot allow that."

"Miss Decanate," Hecketty paused for dramatic effect, staring the other woman down a little before continuing; "Was there a single incident before this?"

Amilda shuffled on the spot, she could already feel her rage ebbing away and sorrow replacing it. Bertha was killed, indirectly because of the young girl she'd worked so hard to protect and keep in the school, regardless of her malevolent nature.

"No, Constance has been...a model student,"

"I thought as much," Hecketty Broomhead crossed her arms in front of her skirt, and raised her chin. "Continue her education as normal, then send her to me. I shall expect a monthly report of her progress. I trust that isn't too much to ask, Miss Decanate?"

Amilda lowered her eyes, and the swift flash of light informed her Mistress Broomhead had took her leave. She sunk down next to Bertha once more, brushing the woman's auburn hair with her fingertips. Tears found their way slowly down her face, and behind her, she heard the main door squeak open slowly, the tell-tale sound of girls footsteps timidly accompanying it. She heard their gasps as they took in the sight of the great hall. Amilda thanked Constance silently for at least removing all traces of the malevolent magic whilst she was...'possessed' was the only word she could think of, but it didn't seem quite right. Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath she gathered up her courage, removed her tears with her ruffled sleeve, slowly stood, and turned to face the girls.

Across the room, Constance stirred.


End file.
